


Home

by Paia_Loves_Pie



Series: Soft Smut Sunday [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Smut, M/M, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:08:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23988616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paia_Loves_Pie/pseuds/Paia_Loves_Pie
Summary: Greg doesn't like it when Mycroft is away
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Series: Soft Smut Sunday [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1672735
Comments: 17
Kudos: 166
Collections: Soft Smut Sunday





	Home

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, Mottlemoth, for the prompt of "Home". This is a few weeks late, but I don't think anyone will mind ;)

Greg woke up. Again. His head pressed heavy and sweaty against the pillow. He’d been drifting in and out since he went to bed hours ago, never quite sleeping, but not precisely awake, either. Every little noise set his nerves on end, jerking him awake in a rush of scratchy adrenaline each time. His eyes felt dull with fatigue and frustration, a headache swelling sourly into the back of his skull with a weighty thud when he moved.

Each time he woke, he had reached out instinctively to press a hand against Mycroft’s back, seeking the solid reassurance of his presence, only to encounter cold, empty sheets again and again. His eyes burned with threatening tears, emotions so worn by lack of sleep that his walls were fractured and crumbling. He picked up his phone and thumbed it open, checking the clock. The light was piercing in the darkness and he squinted at the time. After a moment of foggy mental calculations, a possibility emerged. Mycroft would be awake in his timezone. Eating breakfast. Perhaps…

Before second thoughts could squash the impulse, he unplugged the mobile and rolled over, dragging Mycroft’s pillow to his chest, getting comfy in the gloom of the phone’s light as he opened his contacts and pressed the call button. 

“Gregory? It’s early. What are you doing awake, darling?” 

“Couldn’t sleep, My. Y’r house is weird without you. Keep wakin’ up, and you’re not here.”

Mycroft made a soft tutting noise. “I’m sorry, my dear. Shall I talk to you for a while?”

“Mm hmm.” Greg’s throat choked up at his warm voice in his ear. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend Mycroft was here. 

“I was thinking yesterday about the sitting room,” he began. “I know you said it was fine, but suppose if we put up some new paint in there. You’ve been setting up in there quite a bit when you bring your work home, and I worry that it’s too dark. What do you think - shall we paint it a bit lighter? Put in better bulbs for you? I’ve been thinking of having a dimmer installed.”

Greg breathed a soft, shaky sigh. “Mm hmm,” he said again. Words were too much effort. He didn’t have a strong opinion on the matter, but it was true that the room could use an uplift. “Sounds like a nice idea.” 

“Are you comfortable, now, darling? You’re still in bed?”

“Yeah, m’ here. Your pillow smells like you,” he admitted in a whisper. 

“I’m sorry you don’t feel well. I’ve been missing you as well.”

“Your side’s cold,” Greg muttered sadly. “My brain keeps waking me up because it can’t hear you. Knows you’re not here. Thinks there’s something wrong.”

“Will you do me a favor?” Mycroft’s voice was low and gentle.

“‘Course. Anything you need, My. Always.”

“We’ve got that lovely new warming bottle in my side table.” 

Greg’s heart thudded. “Yeah.”

“Shall we settle you back to sleep? You’ve got a few hours left.” 

Oh god, sweetheart. Please. “Will you talk to me?”

“Of course. Have you got it?” 

Greg squirmed over to Mycroft’s side of the bed, the cool fabric waking up his body as he reached into the drawer and pulled out the bottle. It was a new lube brand they’d bought and had been saving for a special occasion. He supposed this counted. He stayed on Mycroft’s side of the bed and rolled over on his back.

“Got it,” he said into the phone. “Gonna put you on speaker, ok?”

“That’s a good idea. Are you comfortable, my love?”

“Mm hmm,” he breathed into the phone, setting it on his chest. The light directed upward, filling the room with a glow.

“I want you to put some in your hand now. Will you do that?”

Greg clicked open the bottle. “Wish this was you.” 

“Everything you do now, I shall replicate when I get home. I’m taking notes.”

Greg smiled into the dark as Mycroft spoke into his ear, his low instructions heating up Greg’s body as he eased a hand around his cock. 

“Mmmm, s’nice. Warming up, now. I’m just holding it here, and it feels like you’ve breathed on it. I want your mouth, My.”

“You sound beautiful, Gregory. Will you stroke now? Nice and easy. Don’t rush.” 

Greg’s hand eased up and down, slow and smooth in a lazy rhythm. The intake of his breath travelled across the phone line.

“When we do this later, I’m going to kiss you,” Mycroft said. Greg sucked a lip into his mouth, imagining it. The slow stroking was working, his cock hardening in his grip as the slippery lube warmed him from root to tip.

“I’m getting hard, My. Thinking about you. Keep talking to me.” 

“I’m going to kiss you breathless. I wonder how long it will take you to come if I just keep stroking you slowly like that. Steady and warm on your cock.” 

Every time he said ‘cock’ in Greg’s ear, Greg got harder. Hearing Mycroft say dirty words never got boring. He kept his pace slow and steady, just like Mycroft said. He arched his body in a stretch, skin prickling without any covers to keep him warm, exposed in the bedroom where no one could see him.

His breath caught as his thumb swiped over the head, gathering the moisture there and smearing it with the lube. The warming substance heated everywhere he touched, ramping up his arousal with each pass. 

“Does that feel nice, darling?” Mycroft’s voice had gone a bit raspy, and Greg moaned a little, thinking of Mycroft getting hard in his hotel room.

“So good, My. I want you to touch me like this when you get home. What are you wearing?”

“That navy suit you like, but I haven’t put on my jacket yet. If you were here, I’d pull you into my lap, right here at the table, and let you make a mess of me.” 

Greg groaned at the thought, being cradled in Mycroft’s arms, rubbing his erection all over his posh clothes. His fist was rubbing faster now, breaths growing louder over the phone. 

“My, I want to come. Going to ruin your lovely suit,” he said in between breathy moans. The rhythmic slicking noise was loud, turning him on even more. The idea of Mycroft hearing it was delicious. 

“Do it, darling. Come all over me. Make a mess.” 

“Oh, Mycroft,” he gasped, hand flying over his cock as he turned his face to breathe in his lover’s scent on the pillow. The phone toppled from his chest as he arched. His stomach clenched, and he came with a muffled cry, trembling. The last drops eased from his prick, adding to the mess on his belly. His breathing was harsh and rough. He fumbled and picked up the phone again, setting it back on his chest - the case sticking to the sweat on his skin.

“Still there?”

“I’m always here, Greg.” 

Greg smiled, sleepy. “Dropped the phone.” 

“I heard. Did you enjoy yourself?” 

“Mm hmm. This was just the practice round. Lube is alright, but I think it might work better if you put it on me next time.”

“I will enjoy that immensely. I confess, I like the idea of you in my home, waiting there for me.” 

“‘S not a home without you in it.” 

“What if...what if it were? Your home, I mean.” 

“Mycroft? Do you mean…” Greg’s pulse kicked.

“I want you to stay. Live with me. I was waiting to ask, but I can’t deny I’ve been giving it a lot of thought. You don’t have to answer now. Think about it, and we can talk about it when I get back.”

“When you come home. To me.”

“It’s always you.”


End file.
